


Vow of Trust

by lantia4ever



Series: Of Overqualified Hands & Pi Figures (IronStrange) [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Civil War Fix-It, Cloak & DUM-E are besties, Cloak is the best bro, Cloak of Levitation (Marvel), Emotional Hurt, Fight me on it, Friday is awesome, Fuck Steve, Hurt Tony Stark, Hurt/Comfort, JARVIS would be proud, M/M, Mild Language, Neither is Tony, Not Steve Rogers Friendly, Not Wanda Friendly, Peter LOVES magic, Protective Cloak of Levitation, Protective Stephen Strange, Stephen is a good friend, Stephen is not good at apologies, Steve is not, Strange is back in doctor mode, Vision IS proud, Wong is a good bro, Wong is still a Tony fanboi, becoming friends, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-19 10:35:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14872134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lantia4ever/pseuds/lantia4ever
Summary: Stephen gets an early morning call - just not from who he expected it from. Instead of chatting with a genius he owes an apology to, he steps through a portal into a cold Siberian night, the sight forever engraving into his memory.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! ^^ 
> 
> And so the story continues...I promised angst and the delivery is due! :D Needless to say, Civil War - even after all these years - is a sore subject. Expecially since the echoes of that movie are yet to be resolved in the canon. So yeah, me and Steve are still on no speaking terms and he's sure as hell not getting any quarters from me in here.  
> Expect Stephen to be even less impressed. 
> 
> This was supposed to be another little quickie one shot, but CACW always brings out the worst in me, so this is going to have three full-blown chapters. Yaaaay...?...! :D Enjoy! <3
> 
> As usual, reading the previous stories is fully recommended, otherwise this will feel random...a lot ;D
> 
> Random ramble: I have recently rewatched Doctor Strange (for science) and I'm still not sure how the damn portals work. Like...mmmkay, you got the sling ring, you circle your other hand a lil' and then ?????????? and boom, portal! :D (he should know the place that he's creating the portal to...right? But then...the other movies confuse me so much...) With that said, please kindly ignore any inaccurate descriptions of magic from now on ^^ (Here's a thought...could he create a portal from Titan to Earth? Theoretically, of course :D)

If anything had ever annoyed Stephen more than medically inaccurate television dramas, it would probably be Tony Stark. And Wong would be a close second along with the Cloak of Annoyance.

When Stark said he had questions, he wasn’t joking.

Following the invitation to the Sanctum, he walked through the doors like he owned the place and didn’t shut up for a minute before he left.

_“What do you do with this? Cook soup in it?” he casually stared down into the Cauldron of Cosmos._

_“How fast can the Cloak move?”_

_“Why is all the magicky stuff this color?”_

_“So what can you do besides pouring me infinite glasses of whiskey? … Did you just teleport us to another room?! Cool. How about Bahamas next?”_

_“What happens when I open this big red ‘do not ever enter’ door?”_

_“Can you make the Statue of Liberty disappear, like Copperfield? What about other people…like Clint. Could you make Clint disappear?”_

_“Where do you shop for these clothes…Costco?”_

Didn’t matter what he answered or even if he bothered to answer at all. Stark was having the time of his goddamn life and Wong – the traitor – was indulging him by explaining everything he asked about magic.

Even when he clearly stated that he didn’t believe it’s magic and that he’s going to explain it with science eventually, instead of ripping his head off, Wong smirked and wished him good luck with that challenge.

The Cloak being all touchy with the engineer wasn’t helping at all either. Stark talking to it like it’s a living person or something…that might have cracked through the annoyance a little, not that he’d admit it. It definitely made the grumpy Cloak go all soft on the man.

Traitors.

“You should come check out the Avenger’s Compound. Just finished decorating…hell, you should join the team! We could use some party tricks when the afternoons get all boring,” Stark offers on his third visit.

When he resolutely declines, ensuring that he’s explicitly clear about what he thinks about joining some wannabe superhero cult of a team, he realizes how much he’s overestimated the man’s nonchalance.

Stark laughs it off and jokes for the rest of the evening before taking off, but the damage had been done.

Stephen can see the hurt his statement caused…and still, being the asshole that he is, he adds more salt to the injury by quipping about ‘not being good with rejection, Stark?’ and ‘can’t imagine spending my afternoons any worse than in your ego and testosterone enhanced cult dungeon’. And Stark quips right back, laughs some more and jokes some more and it’s ugly, fake and _disappointed_.

He doesn’t visit again after that. Sends a text every now and then but even those are short…professional. Distant.

Wong glares at him for weeks and the Cloak trips him down the stairs every chance it gets. And Stephen lets them.

Among other things he would never admit to anyone is the fact that he might…possibly…sort of… _miss_ the annoying genius. A little bit. Maybe.

Between protecting their dimension, training and studying the mystic arts, Stark’s visits were definitely the highlights. Annoying and obnoxious and… _fun_. He… _enjoyed_ Stark. His borderline offensive quips and disregard for anything that’s got to do with magic. His admittedly brilliant brain that’s capable of keeping up with all of it…his rare, tiny smile he’d shoot at the Cloak when it did something nice. Hell, even when it was being mean.

Leave it to Stephen to successfully ruin it with a single sentence.

“ _I’m quite busy as is, being the Sorcerer Supreme and I most definitely don’t need to mingle with your superhero merry band. Or you for that matter_.”

They’ve been going at it like this all the time. Always in good fun. Always in jest.

This time was different. Because this time, Stark was serious. And Stephen realized too late.

“He’s a busy man too, you know? I’m sure he’ll stop by soon,” Wong actually attempts something akin to _comforting_ one evening after they’ve dealt with a weird possessed artifact down in Jersey.

“Who?”

Wong stares at him, rolling his eyes when Stephen doesn’t budge. “For someone so clever and talented in the mystic arts to be such a miserable piece of human existence is truly sad.”

“A miserab…really? Is that what you think of me? What does that make you then, mister I-serve-this-sorry-excuse-for–a-human?”

Wong waits till they’re back to the Sanctum and sighs, regarding Stephen with a curious look. “You have an attitude. It’s abrasive and I bet it helps you scare off people you don’t want to deal with. But you’re not like that. Not really.”

“Ahhh, okay. Thank you, Dr. Phil. You stared long and deep into my soul and figured out all its secrets!”

There. He does it again. Can he _ever_ stop himself? He probably should…before even Wong decides he’s a lost cause and moves back to Kamar-Taj for good.

“I didn’t have to,” Wong chuckles. “I just happen to know someone exactly like that. And that _someone_ happens to be a person I look up to in a sense. Because despite that fake front he built over the years, he’s in reality a man born of compassion, honor and duty. Man worth of every respect.”

“Oh plea - ”

“Just stop, Strange. You’re not fooling me, you’re just fooling yourself with all your bravado. Stark wasn’t fooled either. Him being all birds of a feather with you, I’d be really surprised if he was.”

“Well I congratulate you both then! You read me like an open book! If you have such a man-crush then go sort it out with him…leave me out of it,” he waves at the other sorcerer while stomping up the stairs.     

“ _Respect_. I respect him, for who he is and in many ways aspire to be like him. Even though I know I never could be,” Wong shrugs, portaling on top of the stairs to stand in his way. “I have many talents…mystic arts isn’t necessarily one of those talents though. I’m an average sorcerer at best and an average sorcerer can only do so much at the end of the day. All a man like me can do is assist someone who _is_ capable of making a difference – achieving greater things than I could ever hope to achieve.”

Stephen frowns at the raw honesty in his voice, noting the slight annoyance that tainted it. Almost as if Wong felt he shouldn’t have to be explaining this in the first place.

“Someone like Tony Stark. Someone like _you_ ,” he adds, rolls his eyes and starts walking towards the doors to Kamar-Taj. “Do us all a favor and call the man, _Sorcerer Supreme_. Or you’re going to find out how annoying _I_ really get when someone’s mean to my friends,” he threatens, leaving Stephen stunned on the staircase, alone.

The Cloak snaps him out of the haze with a well-aimed slap.

“Okay, okay! I’m…going to…do that,” he squints at the Cloak now curling up behind him, pulling them back down the stairs into the foyer. “Um…,” he reaches out for his phone through a portal and does what Wong suggested – calls Stark. “The hell am I supposed to say?!” he hisses at the Cloak, naturally receiving no helpful answer.

It wraps around him gently, no longer weighing him down on purpose as in the past few weeks so Stephen relaxes, raveling in the unspoken offer of comfort.

He will have to find some texts about the Cloak, see what the thing is really about.

“ _You have reached the voicemail of 1-800-7…_ ,” the automated voice recites and Stephen curses.

Well, Wong was right. Stark is a busy man, it’s not like he’s sitting in his superhero lair all bored with a phone in hand waiting for asshole wizards to call him.

The beep goes off and for a second he considers just ending the call and trying later. Sometimes…later is too late. And he’s learnt his lesson.

“Hello…um…Doctor Stark, it’s…Doctor Strange. The uh…,” he sighs, stifling a groan, “…the weird wizard doctor from Hogwarts? I’m sure you remember, I mean how could anyone forget _me_? I’m sure you’re busy and all…world doesn’t save itself every day, right? Anyway, there are some matters I would lo-ike to discuss with you as soon as you find vacancy in your schedule? The Sanctum is always open so…drop by when you can. Um…okay. Have a good evening, Doctor Stark,” he quickly finishes the call before he can say something stupid and throws the phone on the sofa, all but collapsing next to it.

The Cloak flutters, its collar caressing his cheeks…like approval. A reward.

“You’re so…ugh! _Strange_!” he tells the Cloak, cringing. “There, you made me say it. I hope you’re happy!” he huffs, crossing his arms over his chest while the Cloak just continues to happily flail around him.

And now he’s talking to the Cloak as if it was a person as well. Great. He’s…well, he _is_ Strange, too. Guess they’re perfect for each other after all.

 

…

 

He didn’t expect an immediate reply. In fact, he kind of predicted Stark would make him wait, let him nervously check the phone every five minutes for a while…it’s a bit teenage drama of him, but Stephen would probably do the same. So he understood the silence.

Until it spread over three days.

Wong and him are called in to Kamar-Taj and then head off to Madagascar to solve some tribal magic ritual gone wrong for a few days and by the time he’s back to New York and checks his phone he thought he’d be met with a couple texts or at least a missed call.

There’s nothing though. Nothing at all.

A disturbing feeling settles in his chest, one he hasn’t felt in a long time. If ever.

Him not replying can only mean two things. Well…three things.

Either he’s too busy to even notice the voicemail, or Wong completely misread the man and Stark is actually angry with Stephen to a point he would just ignore the message.

Or…there’s something wrong. Meaning he can’t reply even if he wanted to.

He doesn’t really want to think about that last option too much. It’s ridiculous. Stark is Iron Man. And he’s got a team full of superpowered individuals standing behind him. So that last option really isn’t an option at all.

Which leaves him to option one…a likely scenario. And option two. He can only hope it isn’t option two.

Stephen keeps the phone in his pocket and decides to make himself busy again, trying not to think about all the implications this radio silence can have. He picks a book from the upstairs library on banishing disturbed spirits from objects – that one’s gotta be a prank – and dozes off in an armchair reading it.

He’s woken up by persistent ringing in his ears, rays of morning sunlight offending his eyes as soon as he blinks them open. He stretches his aching limbs and discards the ridiculous book on the table.

The ringing doesn’t stop though.

“Wh…the phone!” he realizes and fishes for the screaming device in his pocket, fumbling with it before finally managing to press the green pick-up icon and bring it to his ear. “Hello?”

“ _Hello_ ,” a female voice greets him from the other end.

He quickly checks the caller ID – _Tony Stark_. That doesn’t make sense.

“ _Doctor Strange? Is that you?_ ” the woman asks.

“Uhm…yes. Yes it is. Better question is who are _you_? And why are you calling me from Tony Stark’s phone?”

“ _I am FRIDAY. Boss might have mentioned me_?”

Ah…the AI. He’s…he’s talking to an AI right now. Well that’s perfect. Stark doesn’t even bother dealing with him in person now it seems and just delegates the chore to his Siri. This is an option he didn’t expect.

“Of course. Hi. Is there any - ”

“ _Doctor Strange_?” she asks again, but this time it doesn’t sound anything like before. It doesn’t sound like Siri either. Stephen can distinctly hear several emotions behind those words.

The one that clenches his stomach the most is _fear_. The AI is _afraid_. “Yes?”

“ _I…I had no one else to call. And…I don’t know what to do. Please, Doctor. I need your help_.”

And that there was _desperation_. Stephen bolts up from the armchair faster than he thought possible, the Cloak straightening on his shoulders. “What happened? Is…is Stark alright?”

“ _For the moment. But he is in need of immediate medical attention and I was hoping that perhaps you could_ \- ”

“Where is he?” he interrupts her, putting on the sling ring.

“ _Siberia, Russia_.”

The hell is he doing in…whatever. Not important. “I need some kind of visualization of the place…you got Google Earth? Or a photo? _Something_?”

“ _I can send you an image…how soon can you get there, Doctor_?”

“Few seconds. I won’t exactly be using standard forms of travelling. Now, I do believe time is of the essence so send me the image and I will be right there,” he prompts the AI, earning a moment of silence in return. “FRIDAY?”

“ _Will you help him, Doctor_?”

It’s an odd question, considering that’s clearly the intention he has.

“ _Can I trust you not to hurt him any further_?” she adds and the question snaps something in Stephen’s brain.

He knows FRIDAY only from the tales Stark had spun when he visited the Sanctum. The AI helps Stark operate the armor as well as executes security measures at the Compound and assists the engineer with his work in the labs.

Here she is now, calling somebody she doesn’t know. As a last resort. A desperate final attempt at helping her creator. Naturally the last thing she wants to do is allow more harm to come to him and since she doesn’t really know Stephen, she has no reason to trust him not to do that.

_I had no one else to call._

What the hell happened?! Where are all the Avengers at then?!

“I’m a doctor. I don’t hurt people. Unless they are a threat and I doubt Stark is a threat. You have my word that I will do anything in my power to help him,” he promises.

The phone beeps with an incoming message. “ _Please hurry_.”

Stephen doesn’t need the extra encouragement. He studies the image FRIDAY sent for all of five seconds before raising his hands, opening a portal and jumping through it.

A swoosh of freezing air hits him on the other side, but it’s not the subzero temperature that chills him to the bone.

Sitting on the ground against a frosty, cracked stone wall is the collapsed form of Tony Stark. The Iron Man armor he’s in is mangled and cracked, not at all the invincible shell that it is supposed to be.

And there’s blood.

On his hands, his chest, his bruised face. The ground…bloody and burned.

The most disconcerting thing is the quiet though. No shuffling, no twitching…no loud breathing. The man is still, frozen…eyes closed.

“Stark?” he all but flies next to him, scanning the injuries and checking for vital signs. “Stark!”

There’s no reply, not even a hint that the engineer heard him.

Unresponsive…pulse slow…skin cold. Likely onset of hypothermia not to mention the steady bleeding from that chest wound and the number of colorful bumps on his head…this isn’t good.

“FRIDAY? You still there?” he puts the call on speakers, while his gloved fingers run over the crescent shaped hole spreading across the chestplate.

With Captain America’s signature shield laying just few feet away on the floor, it doesn’t take a genius detective to connect the facts here.

“ _Of course, Doctor_.”

“How do I get him out of the armor?”

“ _On the right side just below the hip is an emergency latch. Pulling it will release the joints of the armor and allow easy extraction_.”

Easy…there’s nothing easy in peeling layers of metal off a man, especially the layer currently edged in his chest. He releases the latch and removes the pieces of armor from around his legs and arms, hips and the helmet but ends up using a spell to completely disintegrate the chest piece to atoms so the torn metal doesn’t cause any more damage.

The Cloak slides off from his shoulders and without prompting, it drapes itself over the unmoving body. Good for warmth and keeping the wound from further exposure.

“Okay…give me a hand here, you weirdo,” he tells the Cloak, sliding a hand under Stark’s shoulder in order to pick him up.

Before the Cloak takes on most of the man’s weight, Stephen hauls up the disturbingly light body into his arms and momentarily sees red. It’s been a while since he felt such monstrous amount of fury bubble up inside him, keeping it pretty zen since becoming a sorcerer.

But this…this almost makes him want to summon a rift back to the Dark Dimension and go strangle Dormammu with his bare hands.

He carries Stark with the Cloak’s help through the portal back to the Sanctum, snapping into what used to be his favorite mode – the doctor mode.

Saving lives first, unleashing fury later.

“ _If you could possibly retrieve the shield and what remains of the armor later I_ \- ” FRIDAY requests but before she finishes, Stephen sends the portal flying across the floor, sweeping the scattered metal and the shield into the Sanctum as well. “ _That is…handy. Scientifically questionable. But handy_ ,” she comments.

Even Stark’s AI sounds like him. Go figure.

“ _I was able to observe the scene from the bunker’s security cameras…I can’t seem to pinpoint your current location however. Not even through the call’s signal_ ,” she says, sounding concerned.

“The Sanctum is protected from any interference, mystical or technological. I can…take it down if you’d prefer and - ”

“ _No, Doctor. There is no need to compromise the safety of the place. The safer it is the better_.”

He portals them to his room, laying the still awfully limp body on his bed, grabbing the medical kit he always keeps here, just in case. With Wong’s proclivity for clumsiness it is useful a lot.

“Do we have any more blankets in here?” he asks the Cloak and it shoots out of the room. That thing really does understand everything, doesn’t it? He _has to_ read up on it later.

Fumbling with the scissors, he tries cutting the undersuit open, but the fiber seems to be armored as well and won’t give way so he rips it open with a quick spell. The damage doesn’t look as horrifying as it did at first. The armor thankfully took most of the blow and the bleeding gash spreading across Stark’s chest is fairly superficial.

He lets his fingers trace one of the many scars that form an entire web stemming from a circular shape in the middle of his chest. Where that glowy thing keeping him alive used to be.

If it was still there, it’d be broken to bits as the shield went straight through its counterpart in the armor. And Stephen wouldn’t be dealing with a patient, but a corpse.

As it is, the wounds aren’t the problem. Nothing a disinfectant, few stitches and a bandage won’t fix.

It’s the hypothermia and the multiple head trauma he’s worried about. A quick prod with his fingers against the ribs suggests at least a few cracks there, too.

What in Dark damn Dimension happened in there?!

“ _Is there anything you need, Doctor_?” FRIDAY asks.

“No. Unless you have a fully-stocked hospital that you’d deem safe hidden somewhere,” he jokes but within seconds, the phone beeps with a message; an image of a sterile looking room stares at him from the screen. “Um…I was kidding, but I’ll take it,” he shrugs, picking up Stark again and portaling to the new location.

“ _Welcome to the Compound’s infirmary, Doctor. Anything here is at your disposal_ ,” FRIDAY’s voice echoes from all around the room now, so Stephen clicks the phone off and discards it back into his pocket.

“Sweet,” he says, looking around the more than sufficiently equipped room. He places Stark on one of the beds, ignoring the Cloak bolting through the portal and dropping a couple blankets at his feet. They won’t be needed anymore with a thermo-blanket undoubtedly somewhere in here, but he still thanks the Cloak and closes the portal. “You wouldn’t happen to have an MRI as well?”

“ _If you give me a moment, Doctor, I shall provide you with a full-body scan myself_.”

“That’s…handy,” he echoes her previous sentiment and starts cleaning the wound. “Ever thought about working at a hospital, FRIDAY?”

“ _I shall keep it in mind should I ever find myself without a job_ ,” the AI quips back.

“Unlikely.” Not while Stark is alive.

His hands shake over the wound and it’s only partly due to his condition. He makes a grab for the monitors and hooks Stark up with them, the eerie silence now split with the high-pitched beeps simulating the man’s heartbeats.

A welcome sound.

With the wound clean, he weaves a thread through with a spell to seal it and puts a bandage on. It’s not as neat as it would be should he’d done it with his own hands back in the days…but it’s still miles away from what it would look like if he even attempted it with his hands as they are now.

A hologram pops up next to him, making him jump.

“ _Here is the scan, Doctor. According to my brief analysis, boss is suffering from light concussion, hypothermia and has two broken ribs_ ,” FRIDAY elaborates.

Stephen nods, inspecting the 3D scan. “What about the arm?” he points at Stark’s left hand. “Looks like a sprain to me, cracked bone too.”

“ _That didn’t happen in this fight…and it was already in a sling_.”

“Was?”

“ _It is difficult to wear a sling inside the armor_.”

He rolls his eyes and searches for the thermo blanket. “Of course.”

With the blanket secured around the still cold man and set to a warming temperature, Stephen moves on to tend the cuts and bruises blossoming on his face, thoroughly cleaning them in silence.

The Cloak once again lays itself on Stark, despite it having no actual use anymore. No harm either, so he lets it be.

“FRIDAY?”

“ _Yes, Doctor_?”

The question had been burning on the tip of his tongue ever since he stepped through the portal and witnessed the carnage. Now he’s almost unsure if he wants to ask. Almost. “What happened out there?”

“ _I…I am not sure if I’m at liberty to say, Doctor_.”

“Let me rephrase that question then. Why is there a Captain America’s shield shaped hole in Stark’s chest? Because the last time I checked, they were both part of the _same team_.”

“ _I see you haven’t watched the news in some time, have you_?”

No. No he didn’t. It’s not like the Sanctum has a TV and he wouldn’t have time anyway. “I’ve been busy.”

“ _There is…no team anymore. The Avengers have broken up_.”

He frowns, hands pausing the work on the bruises. “Broken up?! Like…what, Czechoslovakia?”

“ _More like Yugoslavia in such comparison. I’m afraid numerous conflicts followed the process, verbal as well as physical_.”

“Are you telling me that the team that’s supposed to protect us from alien invasions and wannabe Earthly villains couldn’t even…protect itself from… _itself_?! Sorry but how do you go from a fearsome evil fighting dynamic team to _fighting each other_?!”

“ _There had been a disagreement on an important matter_.”

“Dis…a disagreement. What kind of disagreement makes you beat your friend half to death and then leave him in the middle of nowhere fucking Siberia?!” he yells, clenching his shaking fingers into fists.

“ _It is complicated. I must admit…the reason is something I can’t quite explain. I don’t fully understand it. Perhaps boss will tell you…when he wakes up_ ,” she adds hesitantly.

Stephen shifts his focus back on Stark, tending the rest of his wounds in silence.

“ _He_ is _going to wake up, yes_?”

Since when do AIs express so many emotions?! “His temperature is coming back to normal, the wounds aren’t infected…I’ll hook him up with some extra IV fluids to help out things but yes, he should wake up in no time,” he confirms, although it lacks his usual confidence.

Because if he doesn’t wake up in few hours, then…

“ _Very well. There is a refreshment area down the hall if you’re hungry or thirsty_ ,” she offers.

“Thanks…is it…I mean,” he sighs, taking a look around the deserted area of the infirmary, “is the Compound safe?”

Not that he’s worried about having a face off with any member of the Avengers, but it would be good to know if he can walk around the place without being jumped at from the dark corners.

“I have locked out this area to any personnel currently present in the Compound. Also, none of the rogue Avengers have access to the complex as of this morning. Should any intrusions occur, I would take steps to prevent it and warn you of course.”

Stephen has no doubts that if somebody tried to intrude, FRIDAY would blast them off to space in seconds if the dead serious, bordering on intimidating tone of her voice is any indication.

He nods and works on administering the IV fluids before collapsing on a nearby metal stool. With eyes scanning Stark’s every movement, he brings up his phone again and dials Wong.

“ _What now?! Don’t tell me there are more possessed dolls. I’m sending a recruit with you if there are_!”

“No. Listen, I need someone to watch over the Sanctum, at least until tomorrow. Preferably you…unless you’re otherwise engaged?”

He hears a portal opening from the other end of the call. “ _I can do that, but I thought we had the talk about going solo on dangerous assignments already_.”

“It’s…not like that. I’m not - ”

“ _Wait, what?! Strange?!_ ”

He winces, pulling the phone away from his ear a little. “What?”

“ _Why are there pieces of the Iron Man armor scattered all over the floor? If you’re naked with Stark somewhere right now, don’t answer! Or I swear I will_ \- ”

“Wong! Just…protect the Sanctum. Please. I’ll explain when I get back,” he promises. No need to upset the man with any details for now. Especially since he doesn’t know many details himself.

“ _You better. Don’t worry about the Sanctum…I’ll try not to burn it down in the meantime_ ,” he adds before hanging up on him.

He relaxes a little, knowing that the Sanctum is in good hands for the night. “I’ll take you up on the refreshments offer. A strong cup of tea wouldn’t go amiss right about now…can you monitor his condition while I’m gone? And let me know if anything – and I mean anything – changes?”

“ _Of course, Doctor_ ,” FRIDAY replies immediately.

He looks down at the Cloak, still resting on the man like a giant blanket. “You too, weirdo. Stay vigilant,” he orders, receiving something that kinda looks like a thumbs-up from one of the Cloak’s hems.

After rummaging through the cafeteria, he finds it mostly stocked with a bunch of different coffees and only a few cheap, pre-packaged teas. He opts for the coffee in the end, having high standards for tea these days and makes a couple PB&J sandwiches before returning to the infirmary.

Seeing he has some time on his hands, with Stark still stubbornly unconscious, he connects to the wifi here and for the first time in a while, checks the news.

And slowly but surely, the fury returns.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony wakes up and Stephen learns what happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! ^^ As promised, here's the next chapter - with added dose of feels and slow burnin' IronStrange <3 
> 
> Just to make it clear, there won't be any face-off with the rogues here or in the upcoming parts of the series until Infinity War - however, post Infinity War? Let's just say I've got some plans for Stephen's first meeting with a particular supersoldier and the witch. Until then...I'll just let the fury fester :3  
> Instead, Stephen is going to meet someone else (or multiple elses) in the last chapter, that's way more deserving of attention and space in the story ^^ I mean, the tags are giving it away, hah ;D
> 
> Thank you all for your lovely comments and kudos! <3 And hope you'll enjoy this here chapter ^^

First Sokovia, then Lagos, then the Accords…wrap that up with a manhunt on an apparently framed former Winter Soldier and somehow the Avengers ended up destroying an entire airport in Berlin while fighting amongst each other. 

 

_Fatalities in Lagos prompt UN response_

_Wakanda calls for summit in Vienna_

_Captain America refuses to sign the Accords – more follow his example_

_King T’Chaka’s murderer on the run – Wakanda demands justice_

_The world on the brink of a Superhero Civil War_

_The Avengers clash with the fugitives in Berlin – arrests made but Captain America and the Winter Soldier still on the run_

_Warmashine now stabilized in Berlin, no further information released to the press_

_Stark provides proof of HYDRA tampering with evidence – Barnes innocent of the King’s murder_

_Rogue Avengers awaiting trial in a secret prison_

_King T’Challa announces the capture of the true perpetrator_

As usual, every news portal has a different version of events, but the core remains the same. Team Cap fought Team Iron Man…because Team Cap disagreed with 117 UN countries signed under the Accords.

Stephen can sympathize with that – everybody complains and disagrees with their government sometimes. Disagreeing with 117 governments though? Now THAT is a first.

He needs the full story. Because this doesn’t make any sense.

None of this explains how Captain America went from the Avengers’ team leader, to a pseudo-anarchist, to trying to split Stark in half with a shield _Stark’s father made_ …and then just leaving him behind to die. He thought the two of them were friends for fuck’s sake! A little political dispute doesn’t make friends go all serial killer on each other.

“The…fuck?!”

The groan startles Stephen from his fury-filled haze and his eyes focus on the now very much awake – and glaring – Stark.

As he’s learnt over the months that followed Kaecilius’s defeat, glaring at the Cloak of Levitation achieves absolutely nothing. That thing’s hidden power is the immunity to glares. And insults. And bullshit.

And that’s why he likes the Cloak, no matter how weird it behaves.

“The fuck, indeed,” Stephen makes his presence known, regretting it the second Stark almost backs himself off the bed in a single violent flinch. The Cloak keeps him there, much to the man’s further… _panic_? Oh. “Uhhh…Stark?” he stands up, both hands up. “Remember me? I’d usually add that ‘of course you do’, but judging from that big bump on your head I’m feeling an urge to start this conversation with yet another state of mind check. And this time I _will_ be insisting on what’s your name, what date it is, where you are and eventually with what the fuck happened.”

Stark’s widened eyes finally sparkle with recognition and he stops struggling with the Cloak. “St…D-doctor Wizard,” he stutters, wincing when he moves up to sit on the bed.

“That’s not your name, try again. Also it’s not mine either, so try that again too, douchebag,” he prompts, the usual jest that would accompany the words gone. It doesn’t come out harshly either, but he needs this man to realize this is serious because the speed in which his face goes from panic to press-worthy neutral is terrifying.

The Cloak finally slides off him, only to hover next to the bed like some sort of a guardian.

Stark prods a couple fingers against his chest – using right hand only – and winces some more. “Tony Stark, it’s…something something June and this is the Compound’s infirmary. Doctor _Asshole_ ,” he adds and glares at the ceiling. “FRIDAY? You wanna explain yourself?”

“What do you want her to explain? Why she called me?” he crosses his hands over his chest. “Might have had something to do with _you, dying_!”

Stark groans, closing his eyes. “I’m not dying.”

“Not now you’re not! Two hours ago it was a different story!”

“Stop exaggerating.”

“Oh I’m sorry, do you have a medical degree that I don’t know about?! Because I do have one and you were dying, you moron!”

Stark at least has the decency to look a little humbled. “So what?” he whispers in utter defeat, erasing the next lecture off of Stephen’s tongue.

He unfolds his hands, slowly walking to the end of the bed.

That tone of voice is all too familiar to him. After his accident, it had pretty much been his default. Christine tried her best to break through it with her optimism and encouragement. That didn’t work out well. And something tells him it won’t work for Stark either.

Time to switch to his usual charming self then.

“So? Who’s going to answer your damn phone to give me a reply to my message if you’re dead? As entertaining as I find your Siri, I left the message for you, not her.”

Stark blinks up at him, a frown slowly cracking his painfully contained expression. “Bold of you to assume I have nothing better to do than answer your messages,” he squints. “And don’t call FRIDAY _Siri_ , she’ll take offense at that – and so will I!”

Now _that_ tone’s more like it.

“Me and the Cloak also take offense at you calling us Wizard and his magic flying carpet,” he shrugs while the Cloak imitates nodding. “Besides, my voicemail is definitely more important than anything you’ve got going. What is that again? Superhero Civil War?”

Wasn’t his smoothest transition into seriousness, judging by the instant eye-roll from Stark.

“The news is making it sound real dramatic. Usually they’re exaggerating but by the looks of things, it might be even _worse_. Maybe I should have taken you up on that offer to join in since dealing with bullshit is practically my daily bread as of late.”

Stark chokes out a laugh, high-pitched and humorless. “You didn’t miss out on anything…besides…there’s no team anymore so…whatever,” he sighs, looking down at his hands.

“I figured that from the headlines. What I’m yet to figure out is how you ended up freezing to death, alone on the other side of the globe,” he raises an eyebrow, letting the few loose strands over his forehead flutter as if blown by wind.

Stark catches onto that look and shakes his head. “That’s…a long story,” he says, cringing at the words.

“No problem. I’ll sit down, grab this coffee, get comfortable,” he walks back to the armchair he rested at before, grabs his cup and returns to sit on the stool next to the bed. “Coffee? Why am I even asking, of course _yes_ to coffee,” he waves his hand and has another cup appear in Stark’s unexpecting hands.

He blinks at it in surprise, weaving his fingers through the handle and around the warm porcelain. “It’s not exactly a story to tell random people,” he whispers, no heat behind the words at all.

If Stark is anything like him…and he kinda is…then Stephen can’t beat around the bush here. Not if he wants to know what really happened in these past few days.

“Good. Since I am not a random person at all - I’m the Sorcerer Supreme and also the doctor who happened to save your life. Huh. We really have to stop meeting like this, Stark. I very much preferred your simple visits to the Sanctum that weren’t followed by any alien induced injuries, otherworldly demons or looming threat of gunfire.”

There’s a notable tug to the corners of the man’s lips as he settles back against the pillows, half-sitting. “Me too,” he mumbles, watching Stephen curiously. “Alright. Well…what do you know about the Accords?”

 

* * *

 

 

For the first time in his life, Stephen sits for an hour without saying a word and just listens.

Stark tells him about Ultron and JARVIS, about Doctor Banner missing, about some HYDRA-created Wicked Witch of the West and how everything spiraled into the shithole that are the Accords in the end. By the time he gets to the events in Siberia, Stephen is holding the cooling cup of coffee in a painful death-grip, teeth gritted and everything he ever thought about the Avengers questioned.

He knows he’s getting the dumbed down version of events. The _objective_ one, where Stark is taking no sides and talks about watching his parents being murdered by a man standing five feet away from him like he’s reading it in a newspaper over tea and biscuits.

Stephen is good at reading between the lines. Whether they are sentences in a book or the deep lines forming on Stark’s forehead as he retells the story of complete and utter hurt and betrayal.

Maybe him and Stark are more different than he thought.

Stephen doesn’t know what he would do if he were in Stark’s shoes in Siberia. But he’s damn well sure he wouldn’t be sitting here few hours after narrowly escaping death, _blaming himself for it_. For everything. Ultron. The Accords. Colonel Rhodes. The rogue Avengers. The Winter Soldier. Captain America.

Like he created Ultron all by himself for no reason at all. Like he wrote the Accords. Like it’s his fault half of the Avengers are in prison now, his best friend is in a hospital bed and his former friend nearly decapitated him and then abandoned him.

 

_“Ultron’s on me.”_

_“Agreeing to the Accords was my idea.”_

_“I asked Rhodey to come with me to Berlin.”_

_“They don’t deserve to be in the Raft.”_

_“Barnes was just a puppet for HYDRA. He didn’t have a choice. I shouldn’t have lost my shit like that.”_

_“Rogers was just protecting his friend.”_

It’s the sentences left unsaid that bother Stephen even more.  

 

_“I saw the world end, everyone dead but me and I thought Ultron is the only way out.”_

_“Avengers need to be responsible for their actions and deployed only when absolutely necessary. The Accords is all we have to achieve that. Nobody bothered to offer a better solution. Or any solution at all.”_

_“There wasn’t supposed to be a big fight in Berlin. I didn’t believe we could ever fight each other. Not seriously. Not with the intent to hurt…or kill.”_

_“They made their choice and now face the consequences of their actions. Guess responsibility was never on their resume to begin with.”_

_“I was angrier at Rogers for lying to me than I was at Barnes for what they made him do. I wanted them hurt. But I never wanted them dead. If I really wanted Barnes dead, he would be a burnt outline on the stone cold ground in that bunker and Rogers alongside with him.”_

_“I thought he was my friend.”_

He did swear an oath to do no harm…but the idea of throwing Rogers into a portal and forgetting about him for a couple of years is very, _very_ tempting right now. Him and whoever made Stark behave this way. As if every single problem in the world was his fault and his fault alone.

Sure, everybody screws up from time to time. He used to be a doctor – screwing up was on the schedule every other week, no matter how good a doctor you were. And that’s the thing – _everybody_ screws up. He screws up, Stark screws up and the Avengers sure as hell all screw up. So how come it’s just Stark taking all the blame and all the responsibility?! Especially for things completely out of his control?

While Stephen’s plotting vengeance, Stark falls into silence, back to playing with the Cloak’s hem between his fingers absentmindedly. The damn thing somehow managed to sneak itself around the engineer’s shoulders in the middle of his monologue and get away with it. 

“Fri? What time is it?” he mumbles to his AI.

“ _2:37PM, boss_.”

“Ugh. What’s the ETA for the jet from Berlin?”

“ _4PM. Perhaps it would be best if Happy took care of things in the airport_?”

“No. I promised the kid to drive him home…and I have to go see Rhodey,” he sighs and starts scrambling up from the bed, startling Stephen out of his reverie.

“No can do,” he shakes his head and stands up, towering over the injured man. “You’re going back to sleep. Doctor’s orders,” he points at himself.

“You really are a special cookie if you think I could fall asleep right now.”

“Lucky you, I’m not only a special cookie - I’m a special magical cookie. So if you don’t fancy questionable sleeping pharmaceuticals I happen to know a great sleeping spell. I use it on Wong all the time,” he smirks, gesturing with his right hand back to the bed.

Stark is having none of it though. “Well I have responsibilities, so this sleeping thing is going to have to wait,” he tries getting up, but Stephen steps in front of him just enough to make it physically impossible. “Get out of my way, _wizard_.”

“No.”

Stark’s glare give into something more desperate just then. “I have to go to that airport.”

“Not today you don’t.”

“It’s important!”

“So are you,” Stephen keeps his calm, raising his eyebrow…daring him to follow up with something stupid like ‘ _it’s more important than me’_.

He sighs, tilting his head in a stubborn manner. “Get out of my way. Or - ”

“Or what?” he leans over a little, looming over the sitting man. “You’ll punch me with your almost broken hand? Outrun me with two broken ribs? _Outsmart_ me with the concussion? I don’t think so.”

The glare slowly dissipates, returning to that haunted mask he wore as he described the events of the past few days to Stephen before. “I have to see Rhodey,” he whispers in defeat. “And the kid…I promised the kid…”

“You know what? You’re a…a really, _really strange_ genius. How are you going to go see you friend if you black out on the way there, hit your head and slip into coma? How are you going to drive the kid home if the broken rib punctures your lung and you suffocate with your own blood? Hm?”

He lowers his gaze, opening his mouth the second he comes up with some likely stupid comeback.

“I’m willing to bet both of them will understand if you take one damn day off to rest and recuperate from what was almost your _death_. You arguably just had the worst day of your life so lie back down, tell me what airport it is and who I should be looking for and I will handle it.”

His mouth snaps close, a frown wrinkling his forehead. “Wh-why?” he stutters out after a while.

“It’s called _delegating_. Ever heard of it? Probably not, with your habit of trying to do everything by yourself. You’re in no shape to go anywhere right now so sleep and let me do the rest.”

A flash of annoyance crosses his features. “I meant…why would _you do that_? Aren’t you like a super busy supreme wizard or something? Why would you bother going into all this trouble if it doesn’t concern you or that Order of the Phoenix of yours?”

Stephen frowns and only then remembers the past few months and the reason why Stark stopped showing up at the Sanctum. Because that’s exactly what Stephen told him.

That he’s a Sorcerer Supreme and has hundreds of sorcerers and mystical threats to take care of and in no way has spare time to deal with the Avengers…or him.

It was true. But he didn’t expect Stark to give up as easily as he did. Knowing what he knows now it made perfect sense though.

With everything Stark had going at the time, persuading an asshole wizard to join the Avengers or at least be on call when needed was definitely not on top of his list. Stark offered, all jokes and teasing aside, and Stephen declined.

And when it came down to hunting a rogue bunch of superheroes, Stark called in a teenager and a King, but not Stephen. Why would he? Stephen made it clear that he wouldn’t be bothered.

Now, he can’t help but wonder if he was capable of not being a jerk for one damn second and didn’t completely blew the offer off the table, Stark would have called him. Asked him to help. And maybe…maybe it didn’t have to end the way it did with Stephen in the picture.

He takes a deep breath, squaring his shoulders and goes for an honest answer. “Because it concerns you.”

Stark rolls his eyes. “If you’re looking to score favors, I’m - ”

“I’m looking to do what…a friend would do,” he cringes a little, knowing that’s probably the last thing Stark wants to hear. The word _friend_. “I am…so not good at this,” he shakes his head and steps away from the bed, walking to the abandoned armchair.

“People?” Stark asks in a quiet, but gentle voice.

“Apologies,” he turns around to face him again, just in time to see the man nod. “It was the whole point of the voicemail but then you didn’t call back…for obvious reasons…anyway. Long story short, I…behaved monstrously and…screwed up. I tend to do that a lot. And it’s been a while so I guess this was it. So…I’m…”

“Yes,” Stark interrupts him with a painful ‘ _hmmmfph_ ’ as he shuffles on the bed to lie back down, shrugging the Cloak off. “You’re really not good at this. What kind of an apology takes this fucking long?! Don’t answer that. As someone who also sucks at apologies, I’d rather not show you just how long and obnoxious one could actually get.”

He stares at the now comfortably settled engineer for a moment, mouth still hanging open with the unfinished sentence before he schools his expression into…confusion.

“Now, there’s a private runway reserved for the jet in JFK’s along with an onsite ambulance that…that will take Rhodey to the hospital. Vision is with them, remember Vision? Tell him to go with the ambulance and make sure Rhodey’s taken care of. Oh and the kid…you better brace yourself, Doctor Wizard. The kid will talk your ear off before you ever get to Queens. You think I’m bad? You’re about to meet my match, that’s hyperactive and super excited about everything on top of it. So…good luck with that. FRIDAY? Brief Happy about the change of plans.”

“ _On it, boss_.”

“That won’t be necessary. I won’t need a car,” he snaps out of the daze and gets on with the program.

“Really? Do you plan on g…oh wait. You’ve got your funky magic teleportation thing, don’t you?!”

“You think I took a bus to and from Siberia?”

He groans, putting his right arm over his eyes. “I hate your funky magic teleportation thing. Did you…did you carry my ass out of there, too?!” he peeks at him from under the arm in horror.

“You could say that. The Cloak helped,” he nods at the hovering Cloak and Stark groans some more. “The uh…armor is back in the Sanctum. What’s left of it anyway. I can portal it to you later. And…the shield is there too.”

Stark visibly tenses at the mention of the shield. “Hm. Still…Happy will drive there anyway to at least introduce you. Vision is on edge around strangers,” his lips quirk just the slightest. “Especially…”

“Don’t you dare.”

“…if the strangers…”

“I’m warning you, Stark!”

“…are _oh so strange_.”

Stephen pouts, glaring at the smirking engineer. “Considering your head took multiple hits, I’ll write this poor sense of humor of yours off as a direct cause of the trauma,” he clears his throat, lips twitching. If Stark is back to jokes and tiny smirks, it means not all is lost just yet. He’s not fooled. This day took a toll on the man that won’t disappear any time soon.

Only one day at a time.

“You do that, doc. And it’s Tony,” he sighs, pulling the thermo blanket over himself, not even turning it off. “Or douchebag, I’ll probably respond to both when coming from you.”

He chuckles at that. “Fine. But you better call me by my name or by _asshole_ as well then, to be fair.”

“Wait…your name isn’t wizard? Huh. I could swear that it was.”

“Stark!”

“Okay! I’ll stop…maybe…Doctor Strange.”

“I have a first name too, you know?”

“Do you?” he squints at him. “I know you do…your parents must have been fans of alliteration, _Stephen_.”

“You jealous?”

“I’m Tony Stark. What should I be jealous of?”

 _That’s the spirit_ , Stephen smiles and prepares his sling ring.

“About that sleeping spell?” he asks hesitantly. “Are we talking ‘knock you out for a bit’ kinda thing, or the whole Sleeping Beauty until forever deal?”

“The first one. But I’m sure somebody would volunteer to kiss you awake either way,” he can’t help but take the bait and enjoys the low rumble of laughter from St…Tony.

“Alright then, I’ll take the spell…why didn’t you just knock me out with it the second I started being difficult?” he frowns up at Stephen as he approaches the bed again.

“Because I don’t use spells on people without their consent, I thought that much was - ” _would be_ obvious if most of one’s experience with magic wouldn’t be narrowed to Loki and Wanda. Another two names to expand his shit list with. “Evidently not. Anyway, if I had to put you to sleep every time you are being difficult something tells me I’d be doing nothing else. And who would carry your sleeping ass around all the time?”

“I’m sure someone would volunteer,” Tony quips, echoing Stephen’s earlier words after coming out of his momentary stupor. “Well…I’m ready, doc. Me and sleep aren’t exactly best buddies so that spell of yours better be g - ”

Stephen doesn’t let him rumble on for a second longer and with a quick flick of a wrist he conjures the spell and watches Tony’s eyes droop close immediately, his features relaxing. It will be a long, dreamless slumber – exactly what he needs to start healing. The dreamless part in particular.

He reaches out, tugging the blanket up to his chin and disabling the heating. “You, watch over him while I’m gone,” he tells the Cloak that takes its former place on top of the engineer again without further prompting.

Just the fact it listened to his request is a miracle. The Cloak doesn’t listen to anyone, least of all him. It does what it wants. Meaning it wants to do this.

“Weirdo,” he smiles, smoothing the Cloak over Tony’s chest, earning a playful slap.

“ _I assure you, Doctor, that I will watch over the boss as well_ ,” FRIDAY announces and if she’s offended by the notion that she wouldn’t in fact watch over her creator, she doesn’t let on. If anything, she sounds…pleased.

“Of course,” he nods and portals the two empty cups back to the cafeteria.

Taking a few steps back and getting ready to portal to JFK’s airport, it finally hits him that after everything Tony’s just been through, he somehow found it in his infinitely large heart to trust someone. To trust _him_ , of all people.

Not just with his best friend and the spider kid, but with magic, friendship and most of all – with himself.

He lets his gaze linger on the peacefully sleeping form of the genius before entering the portal and vows to earn that trust over and over again, as well as return it.      

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The third chapter will be uploaded on Wednesday, I hope <3 Time to meet Team Iron Man ^^


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephen meets Team Iron Man and also a certain friendly bot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, everyone! ^^ I said Wednesday and Wednesday it is! Enjoy the final chapter of this installment - but definitely not the last part of the series, by far - and let me know what you think so far and if you have some special wishes just send them my way, I'm always up for suggestions ^^
> 
> ~Lantia <3

“Any reason why Mr. Stark is sending the wizard doctor to come here instead of going himself?” the man – Happy – asks, coming to stand next to Stephen on the eerily deserted runway.

“He’s asleep,” Stephen chooses a somewhat neutral, but still honest answer.

Happy laughs – actually laughs. “And you want me to believe that?!” he continues to laugh, until he suddenly stops, frowning. “What do you mean he really is asleep, FRIDAY?!” he bursts out, talking to the AI on the radio.

“She means that Mr. Stark is indeed in bed and catching a few well deserved z’s, while recovering from his most recent set of injuries,” he adds, hoping that will be enough for the driver…slash…bodyguard?

And it is, judging by the quick snap into serious mode. “How bad?”

“Bad. Not life threatening though so don’t worry.”

“Are you sure?” he side-glances at Stephen, squinting at him. “The last time he willingly stayed in bed to sleep was when he was dying.”

Stephen stifles a laugh when he realizes the man is dead serious. “Oh. Uhm, yes. I am sure. Not dying this time.” Not anymore at least.

Happy gives him a nod and goes back to staring ahead, awaiting the plane to land. “You _are_ an actual doctor, right?”

“I have a paper that says so and twenty years of experience to back it up with.”

“So the homeless samurai clothes and Jumanji shoes are a wizard thing then?”

Stephen decides he lik… _hates_ this guy. Him and Wong would be best buddies for sure. “Yeah, pretty much,” he rolls his eyes.

They stay silent after that, watching the jet touch down and taxi their way. When it comes to a stop, an ambulance drives up to them just as stairs are dropped from the passenger doors.

First to walk – or rather float – down the stairs is Vision. He looks around, probably searching for Tony. Instead, his steel gaze lands on Stephen.

Before the android can blast him to space with the mind stone or something, Happy takes a step forward to greet him. “Vision,” he nods and waves at Stephen. “This is Doctor Strange. Tony is…unavailable at the moment so he sent the Doc to take care of things.”

Stephen bites back the retort about how he actually sent himself to prevent Tony from causing more harm to his already battered self and instead does a small bow in greeting. “Vision.”

“Ah,” he looks him over, head to toe. “The wizard doctor. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

 _Of course_ Tony described him to everyone as the wizard doctor. That’s just great. Then again…it also means he did talk about him… _to everyone_.

“What?! The wizard doctor?! NO WAY!” a teenager all but jumps off the jet and runs up to them, eyes full of pure wonder staring at Stephen. “OMYGOD! You even dress like a wizard! That’s like…so cool! I’m Peter by the way! Peter Parker!” he introduces himself, offering a hand.

Stephen sends a glare to the now chuckling Happy. “Doctor Strange,” he replies and shakes the boy’s hand, noting the deceptively powerful grip.

“Ohhhh. We’re using our made up names? In that case, I’m Spider-man!”

“Wh – no! Doctor Strange _is_ my name!” he spits through gritted teeth, zeroing the glare on the teen who seems completely unfazed by it.

“You’re a real doctor?! Awesome! Is Mister Stark alright?” the kid walks around him to Happy.

“Uhm, yeah. Sure. Just…in the middle of an important mission. He’ll get in touch with you tomorrow,” Happy answers and walks the kid to the car, chatting in front of it.

“FRIDAY updated me on everything that happened,” Vision says, taking Happy’s former place next to Stephen. “I would have gone to Siberia myself, but she opted to contact you first. Glad to know she made the right choice,” he gives him a poignant look, one with a clear threat behind it.

“So am I,” Stephen agrees, trying not to think about the fact that if Tony had made it out of that place any later, he might have not been out of the woods at all.

For all he knows, Tony would have been too far gone to save.

He banishes the thought and heads up to the paramedics that just brought the gurney with the blissfully unconscious Colonel Rhodes down. “Are you heading to Metro-General?” he asks, grabbing and briefly going over the chart.

He’s stable, should be up and about within a week. Only not exactly up and about. With injury this extensive, the chances of him retaining the use of his legs fully are…next to none.

“Yes. We are.”

“Good. I will save you some miles then,” he returns the chart and opens up a portal, letting it consume both the ambulance and the confused paramedics with the unconscious patient. “No need to put the man through another bumpy ride. You’re welcome,” he comments and turns to Vision. “Are you going with him? I’ll take the kid home.”

Vision nods, his eyes skimming over the portal with awe. “Thank you, Doctor. For everything,” he adds and steps through the portal, joining the still bewildered paramedics.

He waves the portal closed and focuses back on the duo standing by the car.

“What was THAT?!” Peter flails his arms around, pointing to where the portal was. “Did you just teleport them with magic?! AWESOME!”

“We’ll be taking the car,” Happy decides.

Peter flails, channeling some serious puppy dog eyes. “But…but… _magic_!“

“Exactly. _You_ take the car, I’ll drop the kid through a portal and we’ll finally be done here,” Stephen argues, pausing when he brings up his hands. “You wouldn’t happen to have…a photo of the street you live in?” he asks, realizing he doesn’t really know where the kid lives.

“A photo of my street? Oh! You need to know where you’re going when you’re creating the portal, don’t you?” Damn this kid _is_ smart. “Uhm…I have some selfies from my room, but aunt May would freak out if a magic portal appeared out of nowhere in our apartment. I can describe the street for you? It’s in Queens - ”

“That won’t work.”

“ _Exactly_ ,” Happy smirks and ushers the boy to the now opened backdoor. “Car it is.”

“But!” Stephen holds up a finger, returning the driver’s smirk. “Google Earth will work. You got internet on your phone?”

Peter sneaks out from around Happy and rolls his eyes. “Do I have…I’m a teenager, the internet and the phone is part of our life support, Doctor Wizard!” he explains and fishes out his phone from his jacket pocket.

“ _Strange_! It’s _Doctor Strange_!” Stephen corrects him, but the teen doesn’t pay it any attention.

“There you go!” he hands him the phone, an excited smile on his face.

Tony wasn’t kidding. This kid really is a handful.

Stephen takes the phone, studies the satellite image of the street view and nods, throwing the phone back at Peter and opening a portal there.

“AWESOME!” Peter yells, running around the portal and inspecting it with curiosity.

“Well, go on then,” he waves at the portal.

“THANKS, DOCTOR WIZARD! YOU’RE THE MAN!” Peter sends him a thumbs up and waves at Happy. “Thanks Mister Happy! I’ll give Mister Stark a call tomorrow!”

“Sure, whatever,” Happy shrugs, sending tiny glares Stephen’s way.

Peter jumps through the portal, exclaiming more ‘WOW!’s and ‘COOLS’s on the other side so Stephen quickly closes it.

That’s how too much energy stuffed inside one person looks like…he doesn’t remember being _this_ lively when he was his age.

"Well this is a bit a of a deja-vu," Happy sighs, leaning against the boot of the car. "Am I about to lose another job? First I became a redundant bodyguard and now I'm about to be a redundant driver, huh?"

"I assure you this is a one-time thing. I definitely do not intend to become anyone's private teleportation service," Stephen cringes, walking up to him. "I'll head back to the Compound again. Make sure the patient is still where I left him."

"You do that," he nods and offers him a hand to shake. "If anything comes up, FRIDAY can get a hold of me."

"Of course."  They say their goodbyes and Stephen portals back to the infirmary before the on-looking airport staff comes to investigate where the arrivals are all mysteriously disappearing to.

Tony is still peacefully asleep so Stephen changes the IVs and makes himself comfortable on the bed opposite of him. With nothing much to do around here, he reaches out to the Sanctum for the book he's been reading yesterday and reads it until late evening, checking up on the engineer every now and then but eventually letting his heavy eyelids droop close and rest.

  

* * *

 

 

When he wakes up, there's something nudging his shoulder. "L've me al'ne," he mumbles and tries swatting the intruder away but winces when his hand connects with something metallic. A series of beeps emits from whatever it is, making Stephen all but jump up on the bed, eyes flying open and focusing on the...robot?

It looks like something straight out of an 80’s sci-fi movie, so very unlike any tech he’s encountered so far in the Compound. It has a camera attached to its one…arm? Claw…thing? And it seems to be watching Stephen with it curiously, while poking him with the claws.

“Uhm,” he looks up only to see Tony’s bed empty. “FRIDAY?” he asks the AI instead.

“ _My apologies, Doctor. DUM-E was sent here to wake you up_ ,” she explains immediately.

He squints at the bot, noticing the letters painted over the hydraulic system are exactly what she said. “DUM-E?” he reads out loud and earns himself another round of beeping coming from the bot.

“ _He is one of boss’s assistant bots. Quite harmless_ ,” she adds and Stephen doesn’t _quite_ believe that.

“Speaking of your boss, didn’t you say you’d watch over him?”

“ _I did and I am. He woke up some time ago and is currently in the cafeteria making breakfast_.”

DUM-E beeps some more and then grabs onto Stephen’s sleeve and drags him slowly off the bed.

“Okay. Okay! I’m going,” he yawns and follows the touchy bot.

The scene that greets him in the cafeteria is…unexpected to say the least.

Tony is sitting at the table, dressed as casually as Stephen’s ever seen him, a pain-filled scowl spreading across his face but he’s smiling at the same time, looking at the Cloak. “You’re such a show off, you know that?”

The Cloak turns around, holding a pan with one of its hems and flips what looks like an omelet on it.

“Just don’t burn it, Ramsay,” Tony scoffs and alerts to DUM-E’s litany of beeps. “A-hah! There’s the Sleeping Beauty! Did you knock yourself out with the sleeping spell too or was that plain old exhaustion? Peter has that effect on people, I did warn you.”

Stephen tears his gaze away from the Cloak, still happily flipping the omelet, and raises his eyebrows at Tony. “Oh please. It was just a nap. What time is it? 9 AM?” he waves at the window, where the sun is visibly still on the horizon rather than above them.

“Yeeeeeeah, this window? It points west, doc. So it’s actually something past 4 PM but hey, we can have breakfast in the afternoon, right?”

“Aftern – oh no,” he groans, searching for his phone. “Wong’s going to kill me.”

“Wong says hi and that he’s ok with guarding the Sanctum some more,” Tony speaks before he can dial the sorcerer. “I called him a few hours ago. Sounded like he was having a party over there,” he chuckles.

Stephen nods, shoves the phone back to his pocket and goes to sit down opposite of Tony by the table. “Wait…you have _Wong’s phone number_?” he grimaces.

“Yep. Why wouldn’t I?” Tony shrugs, glancing at to Cloak. “Are you going to be done this century at least? There are people starving in here! How do you like your eggs?” he asks Stephen but doesn’t wait for an answer. “Not that it matters. He mastered the omelet on his second try and refuses to make anything else.”

It takes Stephen a moment to realize Tony is talking about the Cloak. “How do you figured the thing’s a ‘he’?” he frowns.

“He, she…I called him both ways and he didn’t really mind either…so I stuck with he. Wong tried arguing that technically, he’s an _it_ , but it doesn’t seem right to call someone capable of thinking for themselves an _it_. That’s just rude.”

“That’s…an interesting theory.” It makes sense too, not that Stephen would say that out loud. The Cloak appears to have blown its… _his_ ego enough for the day. “I don’t actually know much about…him,” he waves at the Cloak. “Hope to find some texts in Kamar-Taj on all the various relics…until then I guess anything goes.”

“Pffft, who needs texts? He’s the Cloak of Levitation. A self-aware, intelligent shoulderwear that does what it wants, adds bonus points to your fashion status and…apparently likes to cook.”

“ _And_ …he defies all scientific rules and conditions. Shouldn’t that bother you?”

The so far pained, but soft expression on Tony’s face hardens. “Everything that’s got to do with magic bothers me. On more than just academic level. But Cloakie gets a pass. He’s cool,” he shrugs. “So what if I can’t figure out how he thinks since he doesn’t have a brain or anything remotely like it. On second thought, that actually _does_ bother me,” he frowns at the Cloak that whirls around just then and floats over to the table, depositing a gigantic omelet on one of the plates. “Never mind. Who cares about brains, he brings food!” he smiles and grabs two forks, handing one over to Stephen.

“You go ahead,” he shakes his head, still trying to wrap is mind around the scene in front of him.

“I already had toasts. Go on, sharing is caring, right doc?”

He rolls his eyes and takes the fork, nibbling at the omelet with the engineer in silence.

Despite the almost…domestic atmosphere, the elephant in the room is still hanging heavily in the air. Tony’s now very colorful face is a quick reminder should anyone forget.

The Cloak does the dishes in the background, DUM-E rolling around, grabbing onto him every now and then much to the Cloak’s evident annoyance.

“What’s DUM-E’s deal?” Stephen breaks the quiet, watching the bot _play_ with the Cloak.  

“Hm? Oh. He’s the first bot I’ve ever made…helps me out in the lab along with a couple of his younger brothers. Not the smartest cookie in the jar and some assholes with a death wish would even dare to call him obsolete but I like him the way he is.”

DUM-E grabs the Cloak again, moving to pull him away from the dishwasher and when he finds the Cloak won’t budge, he beeps in what sounds like excitement and keeps on tugging on him.

Stephen chokes out a startled laugh and nods. “I like him too.”

“Okay boys, wrap it up,” Tony clears his throat, his voice betraying something…vulnerable.

He blinks at the engineer, worried it’s got something to do with his injuries but contrary to the strained tone of his voice, Tony is smiling. Tiny, real smile that only widens when the Cloak takes his command literally and _wraps_ around the even more happily beeping bot.

When the omelet is all gone and Stephen pours them coffee, he lingers over Tony when he passes him the cup. “I should check on the stitches and renew the bandage. And that hand needs to be in a sling,” he points at Tony’s left hand.

“Ah oh. Doctor mode initiated,” he smirks. “Sure, fine. Do your worst, doc.”

“You should take something for the pain as well,” Stephen adds, seeing that he’s getting away with the doctor mode.

“It’s not that bad.”

“Yeah right, and I’m Ghandi.”

“Well, you kinda have his clothes.”

He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes. “I walked into that one.”

They move back to the infirmary and Tony actually lets him redress the wound on his chest and takes the offered Vicodin pill without any further complaints or comments.

“You should rest some more, or at least not move about too much,” Stephen prescribes, doubting Tony would be able to remain stationary for more than a minute. “The stitches can go in a week but the ribs will give you trouble if you strain them.”

“I know,” he makes a pained grimace, eyes darting at something behind Stephen.

The Cloak suddenly wraps itself back around his shoulders, settling in comfortably. “Why hello there, weirdo. Welcome back. I should head back to the Sanctum now…break that Beyoncé party Wong’s throwing in there,” he smirks lightly, the smile not really reaching his eyes.

There’s this utterly lost expression on Tony’s face for a few moments before it melts into neutral as he nods in understanding.

Stephen would like to say he’s never seen that look before, but it stared far too many times from the mirror at him after the accident. Those were the worst weeks of _his_ life.

Waking up, staring into the ceiling, moping about the rapidly emptying flat. Alone.

Christine tried to be there for him. She was the only one who tried. And if that isn’t sad on its own, he doesn’t know what it. His only friend and he pushed her away.

He didn’t know any better. And she didn’t know what to do to help him. God bless that woman but she simply didn’t understand the mess his mind and soul was in.

It takes one messed up head to know one.

He clears his throat. “I could…hang around for a while and - ”

“And watch me wobble around my lab as I do some emergency stand up inventing? Surely you have better things to do.”

“Better, yes. More entertaining? Debatable.”

His lips quirk up, eyes watching him intently. “Go break that party up…my advice? Sneak in. I bet you’re going to catch Wong in all sorts of compromising moves, dancing to _All the single ladies_.”

Stephen rumbles out a laugh. “I better have my phone at the ready then.”

“I’d suggest you do. If it rings more than twice when I call and you won’t bother answering - ”

“You’ll what? Hang up on me?” he smirks.

Tony purses his lips, narrowing his eyes at him. “Nope. I’ll just send Wong that lovely voicemail you’ve left me. You do realize you’re like the only person in the world who’s ever called me Doctor Stark, right?”

“Ughhhhhhhhhhhh…”

“I might put that on repeat whenever I’m feeling down. Actually, FRIDAY? Queue that up for me, why don’t you?”

Stephen sighs, trying to send the man a glare but failing horribly. “Don’t push it, Tony…or I’ll _always_ call you Doctor Stark.”

“I think with you in the room, there’s no need for more doctors. Anyway…if…if you wanna come here to…hang around as you said, then the Compound’s always opened. I mean…the Order of the Mystic Arts and the Avengers gotta stick together, right?” he grins and it freezes on his face a second later, his brain likely catching up with what he said. “Uhm…forget wh - ”

“No, no…I agree,” he nods, all the jest of the previous banter gone. “The uh…Sorcerer Supreme and Iron Man on allied grounds? Not only is that a good idea as we are both tasked with protecting this Earth in our own way…but it also makes for a great excuse for me to…come hang around here,” he smiles, not his usual cocky, smirky smile. No. The genuine one. One this man most definitely deserves.

Tony mirrors it, albeit a bit sadly and nods. “Sounds…agreeable. Wong’s invited too. Wouldn’t want to break up the dynamic duo,” he waves at Stephen, his features softening. “I really owe you one this time around. Not just…for patching me up and all that, but the airport as well. Jeez, the kid couldn’t stop talking about you, I thought my ear would fall off!”

He rolls his eyes. “Mine too. Is he that loud all the time?”

“Yep.”

“Smart kid though.”

“That he is,” he says softly, eyes dropping to the floor.

“And you don’t owe me anything, Tony.”

“Uhhh, yes I do. Damn. You were right. We really have to stop meeting like this, in the middle of crisis, you having to go all doctor on me…”

“Tony.”

“Seriously, let’s tone it down on the crises.”

Stephen shakes his head and prepares his sling ring. “Tony?”

“Yes? Ehm…yes?”

“Friends don’t own each other things. No favors, no debts…” he trails off and waves a portal open behind him. “We keep meeting each other but…we don’t really _know_ each other. So me going on about friendship here right now probably sounds all sorts of ridiculous to you – nah uh!” he stops him when he takes a breath to talk. “It does.”

Tony breathes out, shrugging.

“Relationships are about trust…teammates, coworkers, friends, lovers…without trust they’re all just plain words. So…I’ll start with that. _Trust_.”

He lets that sink in for a second before he turns around and walks towards the portal.

“Yeah well…rule number one? No unauthorized portals in the Compound unless someone’s dying,” Tony says, glaring at the portal. “If Vision can learn how to use the doors, I’m sure you can too.”

“Fine. I’ll portal _outside_ of the Compound. _If…_ you stop using the Cauldron of Cosmos as a trash can.”

“Deal.”

“Good,” he gives him a little wink and walks through, looking over his shoulder. “Have a good night, Tony.”

“You too…Stephen,” he hears the engineer reply and can only wish he could put that on repeat for rainy days…just Tony saying his name like…like _that_.

Soft and gentle…with that tiny smile playing on his lips.

The portal collapses, leaving him standing and staring at where it used to be in the darkness of his room in the Sanctum.

He can’t quite describe the feeling that settles in his stomach just then. It’s been a while since the last time he felt anything like it.

Especially since everything he’s been feeling for the past ten months was…less than pleasant.

And this…this is nice. Warm. Comforting.

So he holds onto it and smiles, heading down to bust Wong and his party with the Cloak floating around him with renewed energy that he felt has nothing to do with magic.

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next story is already in the making, but I dare not set a date for upload just yet ^^ Might be this weekend...maybe...don't want to get your hopes up ;D 
> 
> Also, I absolutely _adore_ Supremefamily...so I hope you won't mind if I sprinkle a hint or two at the dynamic in the upcoming stories ^^ Like the next one...and since this was a pretty angsty ride so far, I'm thinking some fluff needs to be on the menu now ^^ Lots and lots of fluff and softness...mmm, so soft! :3

**Author's Note:**

> [My tumblr thingie...](http://lantia.tumblr.com)


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